THIRTY-ONE
Finn
Maeve had told me her family was middle class. But I had pictured middle class looking different. Maeve has never complained about how she grew up, and issues with how they handled her anxiety aside, she largely has good things to say about her family. But I was always a bit concerned by the amount of financial responsibility she felt for them. Until now, I never realized just how differently we grew up. I realize that I’ve never wanted for anything, but I had assumed Maeve’s family also lived in a big house here and that she never had to go without anything. Now it makes more sense that first thing she did when we started making real money was send it to her family.
I’ve never felt that weight. That responsibility. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even checked that the Streamify payment came through, because my trust provides plenty to pay for everything I want to do.
Risking everything, her job, her reputation, her employability, on Tell Me How You Really Feel also hits differently now that I know how much of a risk it really was. Maeve hasn’t had a safety net. And I respect her even for more her creative certainty and her belief in this idea, having seen what a huge leap of faith it was.
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever done anything like that.
It makes me love her even more. And it seems like I’ve passed the family interrogation, because Maeve’s family has transitioned from suspicion to smiles as they bid us goodbye. We head to the airport and take another Spirit Airlines flight back to Los Angeles. And we can’t get there fast enough. I can’t keep my hands off her, and she seems to feel the same way, keeping one hand touching me at all times, even as we stride through LAX and risk being photographed.
The moment we’re back at Maeve’s place she slams the door shut behind us. I leave our bags on the floor and pick Maeve up. She wraps her legs around me, kisses me deeply, then pulls back. “Are we totally reckless to do this? With the show? And how badly it went last time?”
I shake my head immediately. “If it’s with you, then I don’t mind being reckless.” I kiss her, and she melts into me. “But this is pretty fucking premeditated. I’d call it the most thought-out thing I’ve ever done, actually.”
I start walking into the living room, still carrying Maeve. “Upstairs,” she whispers.
“Are you sure?” I don’t want her to think I’m rushing this. Rushing us. “I told you. I’m happy to wait. In fact, I love waiting. Let’s go to Carbone. To Italy. Spain. Japan. Wherever you want. Every date we could do. I’m happy to do it all first and have the world’s longest courtship.”
“I’m sure,” she says. And so I carry her upstairs to her bedroom and lay her on the bed. Holding her, it feels like the rest of my life starting. Like I would do anything to make this moment last.
I know that this is just the beginning for us, really. But it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
I undress Maeve slowly, lingering to kiss each part of her that I unveil as I discard her sweat suit. Once she’s just wearing her delicate lace bra and underwear, I inhale sharply. “Maeve, fuck. You’re so gorgeous,” I say, my voice thick with longing and admiration. I can’t help but think of our first time, how intimate and desperate and hopeful it was. This is better because now I know we can and will work through everything. I know, with absolute certainty, that this is the start of forever.
Maeve tugs me down by my sweatshirt and kisses me, then lets her hands rove downward, pulling my sweatshirt up ineffectually. I yank it off, leaving our clothes in a heap on the ground. I lower myself back over Maeve and we kiss, no longer heedful, knowing already just the slightest bit about what the other likes.
I could keep kissing Maeve, just kissing, forever, but when she arches into me with a gasp, I groan. I start kissing my way down, sliding her bra off, taking my time with each breast until her nipples are peaking. I go lower, lower, until I’m circling her clit, not quite meeting it, until she’s breathless and moaning. I take her hips firmly when I finally lower my mouth to her, and after that it feels like seconds, although I know it’s longer, until she’s crying out and I’m painfully hard, not letting up on her. Her orgasm keeps going, seeming to intensify and wane and intensify, and I continue until she runs her hands through my hair and pulls me up, relaxed and breathless.
I wipe my mouth on the pillowcase and kiss her, gently. I’m straining against my boxers, and when Maeve reaches down and pulls them off in one smooth movement, I groan. “We don’t have to do more,” I manage to choke out. “I’m completely satisfied with seeing you like that.”
“Finn. I want you inside of me.”
That’s all I need to hear. I reach over to her nightstand and fumble, looking for a condom, until Maeve reaches over and grabs one, shoving it toward me. I put it on, add a pump of lube, and bring myself to meet her, stopping just at her entrance, trying to ease in, until suddenly I just have to be in her and push in all at once. She’s so wet from coming, and I slide in and out, faster, leaning down close to her, kissing her face, her mouth, her cheek, her neck, pulling back every few moments so I can look at her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous.”
Maeve starts grinding into me, and suddenly it’s almost too much. It feels like we’re one, moving, feeling. I try to hold on longer, but then I’m coming apart in her, and it’s the best feeling. We lie there, me still in her, until she wants to pee to avoid a UTI. When she comes back, I wrap her in my arms and hold her tightly.
After a few minutes, I turn to Maeve, both of us slick with sweat, but not caring. “You know, I remember the first time I saw you.”
“Oh yeah? The dorm meet and greet, right? I kind of remember it.”
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind Maeve’s ear. “That’s when you first met me. But not the first time I saw you.”
“Am I supposed to guess?” she whispers with a smile.
I kiss her. “You won’t. I switched to your dorm. I saw your family moving you in, your sisters were fighting. You were mediating, even then, and your dad was moving furniture with the RA. Your mom was talking to another woman—”
“My roommate’s mom,” Maeve says. “We didn’t know yet that my roommate would be a terror. You’d think living with three sisters in that tiny house would’ve prepared me for anything.”
“Your roommate’s mom,” I amend the story. “It was a million degrees out, and you were sweaty. You kept pushing your hair off your forehead, but some of it was stuck there, darker than the rest. You were wearing a cutoff pink T-shirt and shorts. Oh, and your dad had absolutely parked illegally.”
Maeve’s brown eyes are locked on mine, listening. I keep going. This is one thing I’ve never told her. “I had moved in already. My parents couldn’t make it, so they sent a whole crew of assistants. They’d hand selected my roommate. And once I saw you, I walked back across campus and persuaded their team to move me into your dorm. I said it was a better location, closer to classes, less dangerous at night, anything but that I was chasing a girl I hadn’t even talked to.”
“You were in a forced triple, though.”
“Yeah. My parents paid the room and board for the other two guys so they’d let me join the room.” I kiss Maeve once, slowly. “The other guys on your hall refused to trade with me; they were already moved in. And we made the triple work.”
Maeve sits up, climbs on top of me. “I don’t think I believe you. It doesn’t make sense—you never talked to me, really. You didn’t ask me out. We were just friends.”
“We were in the same dorm all four years, though. How many other people did you happen to be on the same hall with every year?”
Maeve tilts her head, thinking, then lies down on me, her head resting on my shoulder. I run my fingers up and down her back slowly. “Why? Why do that, just to be friends? I just don’t get it.”
I can’t see her face, but I can feel her breath on my cheek, the tickle of her eyelashes, our heartbeats pressed together. We’re a perfect fit, as always. “Because I realized you were too good for me. That I’d ruin it if I tried to win you over then. Because you weren’t just the most beautiful girl I’d ever met … you were you . So I guess it was for this. In hopes that one day I’d get this with you.”
“A multi-multi-multimillion-dollar podcast deal and sex in a bedroom where someone once murdered their lover?” she whispers.
“ Exactly . I play the long game. I told you this was all premeditated.”
She giggles, and for a few minutes we just listen to the sound of each other’s breathing. Slow. Steady. Calm. “Finn. I don’t know what to say. That’s so romantic it’s almost creepy.”
“I stopped listening at romantic,” I say, then kiss the side of her head.
We lie there for a moment until suddenly Maeve sits up, fast. “Wait. Did you steal that from a movie? I think the guy in Call Me Crazy did that!”
She’s leaning over me, and I tuck her thick auburn hair behind her ears again, rest my hands on her hips. “Think about who wrote that movie.”
Her eyes widen. “No.”
I nod. “Yes. I told my parents over Christmas break. And my dad stole it for a movie. Please consider that evidence, Exhibit A. Call him, right now, or my mom; they’ll back me up. I was always gone for you.”
Maeve leans down and kisses me, in a way no one else ever has.